sábado, dezembro 06, 2008

No-good blues

I tried to hide in Proust,
Mallarme, & Camus,
but the no-good blues
come looking for me. Yeah,
come sliding in like good love
on a tongue of grease & sham,
built up from the ground.

…I rhyme Baudelaire
with Appolonaire, hurting
to get beyond crossroads & goofer
dust, outrunning a twelve-bar
pulse-beat. But I pick up
a hitchhiker outside Jackson.
Tasseled boots & skin-tight
jeans. You know the rest.

Yusef Komunyakaa

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